


Running on Empty

by teddybagwell



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Purging, Smut, Vince has an eating disorder, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 09:49:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18547324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddybagwell/pseuds/teddybagwell
Summary: Vince struggles with food and body image.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW // Please don't read this if mentions of disordered eating are triggering for you. My intentions weren't to romanticise or portray eating disorders in a positive light. Most details in this fic come from personal experience but that doesn't mean that all eating disorders go down this way. If you or someone you know is struggling, please seek help! You deserve to live a happy and healthy life <3

Howard had picked up on small, what could be seen as insignificant, hints over a few months; the way he would either take twenty minutes or five minutes to finish a meal, the empty wrappers peaking out from underneath Vince's side of their bed, the food in the bin that he'd supposedly eaten.

In the weeks that Howard had been keeping a close eye, Vince had already managed to look even more fragile, not drastically, but he knew the road Vince was heading towards, and he didn’t like the look of it. 

He wished he could know what was going on inside Vince's mind; on the outside, the man was so calm and collected, still the sunshine kid. But Howard saw the way his image faltered when he had a plate in front of him, as though the world was just a tad bleaker than usual. His smile didn't reach his eyes in the same way, like he was distracted. 

They sat in silence on the couch, apart from the TV playing quietly. Howard sat with the plate on his knees whilst Vince sat with his legs tucked under himself, plate against his chest. Since Howard had eaten half of his, Vince was yet to take his third bite. 

His skin itched. One bite and his mind had already begun to race with panic about how he was going to burn it off. He hoped Howard couldn't hear his stomach rumbling violently.

Howard sat beside him, happily digging into the mountain of chips, putting him at ease somewhat; he liked to see Howard eating and healthy, despite being slightly envious. 

'Any plans for tonight, little man?' Howard asked, breaking the comfortable calm between them. Vince thought he sounded like a dad that only saw his kids on weekends so hadn't the slightest clue what to talk to them about, constantly making small talk. 

'Leroy said somethin' about goin' out tonight, might give 'im a ring,' Vince nodded, thinking he could probably manage a couple of laps around the area instead. 'What about you?'

'I think it's a night for reorganising my jazz collection, maybe cracking open a bottle of wine,' Howard said, licking tomato sauce off his thumb.

'Sounds romantic,' Vince joked, biting down on one of his many chips. ‘What’s it gonna be? Classic candlelight dinner?’ 

'Oh, there's no doubt about that, little man, it most certainly will be,' Howard joked, and Vince saw him glance down at the plate in his lap, making his stomach tighten. It was only a split-second, but Vince could feel his heart stammering heavily.

'Not hungry?' Howard asked, pointing his fork at Vince's full plate.

'Still a bit full, had a late lunch with Leroy,' Vince said, hoping there was less expectancy for him to finish it all. 'That shop down the road does the best fish and chips, it's genius! I’ll take you one day.’

The taller man didn't reply. His knife and fork clattered together as he stood up and moved over to the kitchen to tidy up. 

'I think I'll save this f'later,' Vince followed Howard to the kitchen. 'Mind coverin' this f'me? Just gonna run to the loo. Shouldn’t’ve drunk all that water.’

Howard watched him go, before eyeing the plate full of chips. As quiet as he could, with slight guilt in his stomach, he crept to the bathroom door and moved as close as possible without the floorboards giving him away. 

Howard knew it'd be incredibly awkward if Vince was in fact just using the toilet as intended, but he was willing to completely embarrass the both of them to find out.

There was running water for around twenty seconds before he heard it. He could picture Vince hanging over the toilet, knees on the grimy floor, fingers pressing to the back of his throat. His heart thumped violently in his chest, threatening to break through his ribs. There was the sickly sound of something clashing with the toilet water repeatedly until everything went quiet. 

He was torn. What was he supposed to do? There was no preparing for such a thing. The hallway oscillated around him, his palm pressed against the wall to keep him upright. He didn’t move for another five minutes, his feet felt glued to the floor.

He heard the toilet flush, followed by some shuffling, and finally, the door unlocked and out stepped Vince. His Vince. Howard did everything he could to look innocent, as though he was just passing the bathroom, nothing else.

'Oh,' Vince said quietly, 'y'wantin' to use the toilet?' Panic flashed across his face before he covered it with a blank stare.

'Uh, no, just, uh, grabbing something from the bedroom,' he stuttered, walking away immediately. He could smell the vomit on the smaller man instantly, he had to get out of close proximity. 

Howard willed himself to calm down, but his hands were trembling; he felt powerless. He felt like he'd been shunned out to make way for this new adaption in Vince's life, one he wasn't allowed to be a part of, wasn't allowed to save his Vince from.

Vince chewed on his bottom lip as he filled a cup with cold water, and with shaking hands, brought it up to his lips and chugged it violently until he had to come up for breath. A bitter taste ran through his mouth, his tonsils throbbed, probably happy it was all over. No amount of fluid was taking that flavour away. 

They weren't used to uncomfortable silence between them, never having a reason to feel awkward around one another, even back in the day when Howard walked in on Vince wanking off, they had managed to laugh about it. 

But as they sat on the couch, knees touching, Howard had no idea what to say and surprisingly so, neither did Vince, who was always able to save the day with the most unusual topic of conversation. 

Not this time; his throat was sore and he was too busy worrying that Howard had heard him throwing up to think of anything to say. 

'Cup of tea?' Howard asked, standing up, thankful for something to do.

Vince shook his head, grabbing the NME magazine he was yet to finish skimming through. He twirled his hair between his fingers and felt his stomach groan.

'Actually, could y'make me a cup of coffee?' Vince asked Howard, not looking up from his magazine.


	2. Chapter 2

Vince wasn't sure what time it was. It could’ve been 10 pm or 4 am. His legs were jelly and his shoulders felt like they had weights attached to them. 

He wasn’t sure how long he'd been running, but he refused to stop. The moment he stopped, he was no longer dropping down on the scales, and he couldn’t stand the thought of it. 

His mind was a minefield. Constantly churning out things that he knew weren’t true or accurate, and yet, he was blinded. He couldn’t stop the cycle that was beginning to form no matter how hard he tried. 

Lungs on fire, he eventually came to a halt, hunched over with his palms resting on his knees. Vision blurred, he tried to even out his breaths that were coming rapidly as his body tried to cope with the pressure of running on empty. 

Vince thought of Howard, why, he wasn't sure. His lover sat at home, made to believe that Vince was out partying and getting pissed with Leroy, when in reality, Vince hadn’t drunk since he found out the calories in one bottle of Pimms, and that was without the lemonade. 

He didn’t enjoy lying to Howard, in fact, it almost broke his heart. The two of them had argued, poked fun at each other, maybe took jokes too far a million times, but lying felt like an entirely different betrayal. 

Vince walked home with wobbling legs and hazy vision, shutting the front door as quietly as he could. He silently hoped Howard had gone to bed instead of waiting up, but he knew from experience that Howard never slept until he knew Vince was home safe and as he expected, he saw a smiling Howard when he reached the top of the stairs.

‘Hey, little man,’ Howard said, closing his book and placing it on the coffee table.

Soft jazz was playing quietly in the background and Vince was almost delirious enough to think it was quite calming, which should’ve been a wake-up call.

‘Alright?’ Vince dropped down on the couch beside Howard, throwing his arm over his face and enjoying the lack of pressure on his feet for the first time in forever. ‘Romantic night? Did y’manage to get off with ‘em?’

‘Didn’t go quite that far, romantic dinner and soft jazz were enough for me,’ Howard grinned, turning to look at the smaller man beside him. ‘How was your wild night? You look shattered.'

‘Went on a pub crawl, can’t feel my legs,’ Vince muttered, chewing on his bottom lip. ‘Fancy carrying me to the shower?’

Howard could smell the strong stench of deodorant mixed with sweat radiating off of Vince’s body, he was sure Vince had had wilder nights and still managed to come home smelling like fresh daisies. 

Of course, Howard didn’t hesitate to carry him to the shower, he would’ve stripped and washed Vince himself if he had asked him to. 

‘Wanna join me?’ he asked, pulling his shirt over his head. 

‘I’m alright, I’ve already showered,’ Howard said, watching Vince smirk mischievously.

‘Not to shower, you fraggle,’ Vince retorted as he clambered into the warmth of the shower. 

Howard didn’t need to be asked more than once; he wasted no time in stripping off his fresh pyjamas and hopping in behind Vince. 

Though he wouldn’t admit it, Vince felt like hiding from his lover's eyes. Not because he was uncomfortable around him, but because he felt he took up too much space, like he was too big for both of them to fit in the small space. The other part of him knew he was being irrational as, technically, Howard was broader and much taller than he was. 

Rough hands trailed around Vince’s waist from behind and his heart rate sped up simultaneously, he tried to tell himself that there was nothing to panic about. This was Howard. Howard loved him.

‘You okay, little man?’ Howard asked, pressing feathery kisses across the smaller man’s shoulder. 

‘Mhm.’ Vince leaned his head back to rest on Howard’s shoulder. 'Just a bit tired.'

‘I love you, you know that, don’t you?’ Howard mumbled against soft skin, his thumb stroked Vince's hip lovingly.

‘Course, I love you too,’ Vince said, turning to face him. Their lips pressed together under the steaming hot water and Howard thought he could stay like that for the rest of his life and die a happy man.

Howard let his hands explore the slender body in front of him, moving from the dainty hips to Vince’s arse, giving a gentle squeeze that earned him a gasp. 

Vince could feel Howard’s cock hardening and pressing against his hip, causing a grunt to escape his lips. 

‘You’re so beautiful,’ Howard said before running his tongue up Vince’s neck and behind his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. 

‘Y’not so bad y’self,’ Vince panted, quickly spitting into his palm and moving his hand down to wrap around Howard’s cock, giving it a few gentle strokes. 

‘Oh, Vince,’ Howard whispered, peering down to see nothing going on for Vince. ‘Oh, am I not doing it for you tonight?’ he chuckled, causing Vince to do the same. 

‘I’ll get goin’ in a minute, let’s focus on you,’ he said, secretly knowing it was unlikely he’d been getting anything that night. He put it down to being too distracted. He didn’t feel sexy, he didn’t feel like he was enough to satisfy Howard, despite how much the man seemed to be enjoying it. 

Vince made sure to do it just as Howard liked it, keeping it slow and focused until he was on the edge. His free hand rested on Howard's hip, his eyes watching his face; he loved to watch the effect he had on him.

‘D-don’t stop, I’m not going to- to last,’ Howard breathed heavily, pressing a hand on the wall behind the smaller man. ‘V-Vince.' 

Vince pressed his lips to Howard’s neck, leaving hot, wet kisses as he sped up his wrist movements, running a thumb over the tip of his cock when he knew he was on the edge. 

‘Oh, god’ Howard said shakily, before white spurts shot onto his stomach, but most running down Vince’s knuckles. His orgasm rattled through his body, making him weak at the knees. 

Vince made eye contact with Howard as he brought his hand up to his mouth, running his tongue across his knuckles and taking Howard’s cum into his mouth, swallowing happily. 

‘You kill me, Vince Noir,’ Howard panted, kissing the smaller man and tasting himself on his tongue. They spent the next few minutes like that until Howard pulled away. ‘Still nothing on your end then?’

Vince sighed. ‘It’s not you, Howard, honest. I think I’m just a little distracted, y’mind if we just call it a night?’

‘Are you sure everything’s okay? You’re never without a boner usually,’ Howard joked, hoping to lighten the mood. ‘You see a hat you like in Topshop, boner. You order a new pair of shoes, you’ve got a boner before they’d even arrived.’

‘Maybe that's it, turn yourself into a pair of heeled boots and y’might just be able to get me goin'. Imagine that,’ Vince giggled, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his body. 

‘I’ll keep that in mind, shall I?’

Vince threw on one of Howard’s plain white t-shirts, only wishing it had some glitter or a funky picture on it, but he thought it would do just for sleeping in. Howard took note of the fact that he insisted on wearing a shirt to bed when usually, he was the first to be naked whenever the opportunity arose. He tried to push the thoughts to the back of his mind as he pulled Vince closer.


	3. Chapter 3

Vince hated himself. Sitting on their bed, he devoured anything and everything he'd thrown down on the bed in haste. The control was very much in his hands, and yet, it was as though his hands and his brain had disconnected; had a spat and refused to communicate. 

The cold leftovers of his dinner had been devoured, the plate now laid abandoned, chocolate bar wrappers, crisp packets, and so many Skittles he couldn't count were spread out across the bed. 

The waistband of his black drainpipes pressed into his stomach more than ever, his insides feeling as though they were bursting through his skin. He wanted to stop, but his hands wouldn't listen to him. 

He hadn't eaten in two days apart from the few chips he had to eat in Howard's company the previous night. He'd managed to convince Naboo, Bollo and Howard that he'd eaten already, going into detail about what he'd had and how genius it was.

When he got back to the flat and chanced a glance at the leftover dinner on the counter, covered in clingfilm and with a note written by Howard reading 'Vince's dinner. Back off, Bollo!', it wasn't long before he was grabbing anything he could find in the flat and scoffing it down. 

Eventually, with a bloated stomach and a cloud of his head, Vince managed to snap out of it and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he could think clearly. Specifically, he could feel his world falling apart. He felt fat. He felt revolting. The reality of what he'd just done crashing down on him; he’d lost control. 

Chugging the water he had beside the bed, he jogged to the bathroom and knelt in front of the toilet. He'd promised himself he wouldn't, so many times he'd lost count. His heart was thumping in his chest, ringing in his ears while his vision blurred. The familiar feeling in his throat and the sounds that accompanied it, and he felt repulsed.

The door that protected him, kept him and his secret safe, swung open, creaking loudly. Howard stood looking like he'd taken a blow to the stomach, those squinty eyes looking down on Vince in sorrow.

'H-Howard, w-what-'

'Vince.' 

Howard had heard it as he climbed the stairs and lost all control of his body as he shot to the bathroom where Vince was doubled over the toilet. If he didn't do something now, even if it was just letting Vince know that he knew, he couldn't live with himself. 

Vince could feel himself falling apart. Howard couldn't know, couldn't see him like this; his vomit coating the sides of the toilet, his eyes bloodshot, the bitter smell of his own vomit in the air. Vince was sure Howard was seconds from darting out of the room and never wanting to see him again. Howard would never call Vince beautiful ever again.

Both men fell silent. Vince's knees ached, but his limbs were too weak to move. Howard reached over and pulled him up by his arms, as though reading his mind. Their bodies moulded together as Howard wrapped his arms around Vince's small frame, feeling his body trembling. 

'I love you so much,' Howard whispered against Vince's forehead, pressing his lips in the same spot firmly. 'So, so much.'

Vince felt his bottom lip wobble and pressed his face into Howard's warm chest, it felt like home, Vince thought. 

'You don't think I'm disgusting?' Vince's voice shook as he spoke. 

'Wha- Vince, of course not,' Howard replied, pulling him impossibly close. 'I don't think you're disgusting, I just think you need someone to listen.' 

'I don't know what's wrong w'me, Howard.' 

'Come on,' Howard said, taking hold of Vince’s ice cold hand and leading him into the living room. Vince fell onto Howard’s lap and decided that was where he wanted to stay for the rest of his life. ‘Are you okay to talk about it?’ 

‘A-about what?’ Vince said, playing with the collar of Howard’s button-up. 

Howard took a deep breath. ‘This, Vince. Whatever it is you’re dealing with.’

‘I’ve got it under control, Howard, I just-' 

‘Under control? What happens when it all goes too far?’ Howard pressed, watching Vince swallow and immediately regretting it as the sharp feeling in his throat lingered. ‘Let me help you. Please.’

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes; Howard didn’t want to rush Vince into spilling his thoughts and feelings all at once. He sat and admired the man on his lap as he played with his shirt. He was incredibly beautiful, and he wondered how Vince of all people, someone who appeared so confident in themselves, could be dealing with body image the way he was. 

‘I- I read somethin’ in Cheekbone, about thin bein’ in,’ Vince muttered. ‘I can’t be outdated, Howard, imagine what people’ll think!’ 

Howard should have known all those magazines would have something to do with it; he knew reading them as consistently as Vince did wasn’t healthy. He should have seen something like this coming. 

‘Vince, you're perfect the way you are, and even if you did want to lose weight, the way you're going about it isn't the right way-'

'It's workin' though, innit?' Vince muttered, his eyes never daring to move upwards and face Howard.

'Yeah, and do you know what'll happen if you carry on? …It’s not healthy, Vince,' Howard stressed, wishing for it to just click so they could move on. 'I love you so much, Vince, I-I can't lose you.'

'Howard. Howard, I'm awright, I'm here,' Vince said, startled. Howard's eyebrows scrunched up as he watched Vince closely. ‘I’m not goin’ anywhere.’

‘You don’t know that, Vince. I- I took the liberty of doing some research into this sort of thing and, do you know how many people die from this sort of thing? You might feel fine, Vince, but you’re slowly killing yourself, please let me help you.’ 

Vince wasn’t ready for it. He wasn’t ready to admit that he had a problem because it didn’t feel like one. Skipping a few meals and making himself throw up once in a while can’t be too harmful, can it? 

But the look on Howard’s face was a look he didn't ever want to be the cause of, it hurt him too much to see Howard so full of sorrow. He'd only seen that look a few times, as though Howard reserves it for truly devastating moments.

‘How can you help when I don't even know what’s wrong?’ Vince muttered, picking at the black nail polish coating his blue-tinged fingernails. 

‘I can help you work through it, take it one day at a time, yeah?’ Howard said, hopefully. 

‘What if you can’t help me?’ Vince asked. 

‘Then I’ll die trying because this isn't the road you want to go down, not to sound too much like a shrink. I want you to look in the mirror and feeling good about yourself, I want you to see yourself how I see you, the way you really are, the greatest, most beautiful human being that’s ever graced this Earth-‘

‘What about-‘

‘Yes, I know Jagger is a close second, Vince,’ Howard interrupted. ‘But you get the point, yeah?’ 

‘I do,’ Vince said, grinning up at Howard. ‘I’ll give it a go just ‘cause you care enough to get all soppy on me.’ 

‘You haven’t heard the poem yet.’

‘I’ll see myself out then,’ Vince went to stand up, but Howard pulled him back down, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. 

‘You’re going to come out on the side, aren’t you?’ Howard asked, taking Vince’s small hand in his own. 

‘I ‘aven’t quite reached the rehab stage yet, Howard, I’ll be awright,’ Vince said, ‘day by day, yeah?’ 

‘Day by day.’

Vince wasn’t cured. A huge part of him didn't want to be cured; he wanted to keep losing weight because he’d never felt such a euphoric feeling that compared to stepping on the scales and being lighter and lighter every day. But did he want to die like that? No. He’d always imagined he’d die in the coolest way; fighting a giant dragon with the head of an owl, that kind of thing. That’d be genius.


End file.
